


New Friends and Stranger Companies

by xanthera



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dovahkiin/Aela stuff will happen later, Drabble Collection, F/F, M/M, just some brief character studies and fun vignettes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-07 13:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11624064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanthera/pseuds/xanthera
Summary: It’s an odd camaraderie she forms with the two Khajiit, but not unwelcome. One is a brute of a cat, nearly two heads taller than her. The other is shorter, much easier to make eye contact with, and much easier to scold. Not that height ever stops her from scolding their larger friend.And, oh, but they do give her plenty of reasons to scold them.Tales of the Dovahkiin and her unusual entourage.





	1. An Unfavorable Start

**Author's Note:**

> A series of self-indulgent little snippets. I've had Ryella as an OC since I was thirteen (which makes her my oldest OC), but I never knew what to do with her. She was created so that I'd have a character to play when I went to the renaissance festival, and she's been sitting in my brain for years as I've searched for a place to use her, though I would often use her name if I wanted to play an elf ranger in any given video game. Only after picking up Skyrim a few years ago did I realize that she always belonged in the Elder Scrolls universe. Her Khajiit buddies are also characters I've played in Skyrim, but there's only room for one Dragonborn, so Ryella gets to take that title.
> 
> Updates will happen when they happen. No promises.

Crossing the border into Skyrim was meant to be the start of something new, but this is not exactly what she had in mind.

The sword’s pommel connects with her skull and she knows she’s passed out for a moment, because she feels herself wake upon hitting the ground. Her head is too fuzzy for her to bother putting up a fight beyond some mumbled swearing, even as she feels herself hauled roughly to her feet. She’s being questioned, but how is she meant to answer like this? She can barely register what’s being said.

Something about rebels? She manages a quiet, “Just passing through,” before her vision fades. Her hands are bound in front of her and the last thing she hears before sleep takes her is a raspy male voice beside her. “Tough luck, elf.”

She briefly wonders what would bring a Khajiit so far north, and then the blackness swallows her completely.


	2. Those Who Give a Damn

It’s not an altogether unpleasant journey to the chopping block, all things considered. The destination leaves something to be desired, but at least it isn’t boring, or worse, lonely. It would be a much more unpleasant ride if she were alone. And how likely was she to come across two Khajiit strangers on the same road in such a cold region even _without_ being caught up in a rebellion? That on its own is a wonderful conversation piece, and a great distraction from her impending death.

Besides, even if she’d only known them for a scant few hours, at least there was someone who might care a little bit when her head went rolling.


	3. Escapes and Silver Tongues

As it turns out, a dragon attack is a wonderful diversion when making an escape.

Ryella to manages to scramble into the nearest stone tower along with the largest of the Khajiit, who introduces himself as J’Vahron the moment they cross the threshold. They dodge flaming debris and somehow manage to make their way into the keep in one piece, following close behind Hadvar, the Imperial soldier who had tried to make his captain see reason and release them.

And then the other Khajiit from the carriage is suddenly standing before them, alongside Ralof. The tension in the air is palpable as the two Nords stare each-other down, but the shorter Khajiit – Toraath, Ryella later learns – steps between them with hands raised in a show of peace.

“If I may, perhaps we should work on escaping from the dragon before we start fighting amongst ourselves, yes?”

Ralof and Hadvar glare at each other, but eventually agree to the proposed truce, and the group begins to make its way deeper into the keep.

“This one is a smooth talker,” J’Vahron remarks, jabbing Toraath playfully in the ribs.

Ryella doesn’t know if Khajiit blush, but she’s sure Toraath would if he could.


	4. Altruism Strikes

Ralof and Hadvar are welcomed warmly by their respective families when they arrive in Riverwood, but the tension in the air is thicker than ice. The two households trade withering looks with one another while the men tell their stories. Ryella glances at the two Khajiit and knows that they’re thinking the same thing: leave now before something happens and avoid getting dragged into another fight that isn’t theirs.

Naturally, they have no such luck.

Ralof’s sister approaches with pleading eyes. “You’ve all done so much already, but we need your help again. Someone needs to warn the Jarl of Whiterun about the dragon. Riverwood is defenseless.”

Well, it’s not a battle or an execution. Just a message to deliver, and one with an urgency that Ryella can’t ignore. “I’m new to Skyrim,” she says, “but I’ll do my best to help. Where can I find this Jarl?”

“Just take the road north. You can see the palace, Dragonsreach, from the top of the hill.”

“Thank you. Do you happen to have any supplies we could take?” Toraath and J’vahron open their mouths to ask the elf who put her in charge, but she continues, “All of our things were taken when we were caught in the ambush.”

Hadvar’s uncle, Alvor, answers. “I have a few potions, some food, and a spare blanket or two. Will that help?”

Ryella lights up. “That would be perfect! Thank you! We promise to deliver your message as fast as possible.” Alvor nods and heads inside to collect the supplies.

Ryella turns to the two Khajiit with a determined look on her face. They’ve known her for less than a day, yet Toraath and J’vahron know there’s no point in protesting.

As they set off for Whiterun, J’vahron mutters, “She is very persuasive, yes?”

Toraath only groans.


	5. Native Wildlife

If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. In this case, it’s a giant attacking a small farm.

“Right,” Ryella grumbles. “Giants. There are giants in Skyrim. Lovely.”

Still, she doesn’t hesitate when she sees that the warriors who have engaged the beast are faltering. She quickly readies the longbow she picked up in the keep at Helgen and lets an arrow fly across the plains. It buries itself in the giant’s shoulder just as it’s about to bring its massive club down upon the head of one of the warriors.

It gives the Nord woman just enough time to roll out of the giant’s reach. She stares up at the rocky outcropping that the arrow flew from, and catches Ryella’s eye.

There’s an unspoken agreement of a plan of action between the two women.

Ryella runs in the direction of the battle, and smiles knowingly when she hears two pairs of footsteps immediately following behind her. Toraath and Ryella fire a steady stream of arrows at the giant - a mild annoyance to the massive creature, but a perfect distraction - while J’vahron sprints on all fours and leaps onto its back, digging his claws into its neck.

The giant roars in fury, scrabbling desperately at the annoying little creature on its back, but his attempts are interrupted by the Nord woman driving her blade into the back of its knee. It goes down with a crash, J’vahron leaping to safety before it crumples to the ground, and the final blow comes in the form of a hulking Nord driving his greatsword into the giant’s chest with a wet crunch.

The air itself seems to quiet as the battle ends. The two groups of warriors gather in front of the felled beast, and the Nord woman, red hair windswept and mussed from the battle, approaches the newcomers. “You handle yourselves well. You could make for decent shield-siblings.”

Toraath cocks his head. “Shield-siblings?”

“Outsiders, eh?” the woman smiles. “Never heard of the Companions? An order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honor. And we show up to solve problems if the coin is good enough.”

J’vahron’s ears prick up at the mention of gold. “And how does one go about joining these Companions? Could this one join?”

She hums in thought. “That’s not for me to say. You'll have to talk to Kodlak Whitemane in Jorrvaskr, the mead hall in Whiterun. The old man's got a good sense for people. He can look in your eyes and tell your worth. If any of you go to him, best of luck.”

She turns to join the other Companions as they begin their walk back to the walled city, but stops to clap Ryella on the shoulder. “That was some fine shooting, by the way. I hope to see you in the mead hall. We could use a hunter like you.”

With that, the fiery woman turns and marches up the hill. Ryella stares after her retreating form until she feels a finger on her chin.

“I agree that she’s easy on the eyes,” Toraath grins, “but your mouth his hanging open.”

She snaps said mouth shut and huffs before continuing up the path to Whiterun, admittedly with a bit of extra spring in her step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My update schedule probably won't stay like this; I'm just feeling the writing bug lately. Who knows when it will go away? Also these are getting longer but that's just how it's turning out. I doubt they'll stay this length.


End file.
